Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“Call me!” Val shouts, winking.
“I will! Promise!”
“I’m holding you to that!”
She backs out of the driveaway, honking her horn in celebration.
My spirits soar so high that I’m not sure if I’ll ever come back down.
I watch Cole and Ethan walk up the stairs to the house together, talking animatedly about baseball. My heart is so full that I think it’s going to burst.
I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. Even when it felt impossible, even when I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, I bowed my head and hoped that someday, good things would come my way.
And they did. They came in the best form. A six-foot, blue-eyed, smooth-talking baseball player who has a heart as big as California. A man who’s willing to give up, who wants to give up, his beloved sunshine and salt water for a single mom and her little boy.
I think back to something Kirk said.
“The point is that you can’t force fate, Palmer.”
“With all due respect, I’m not sure that baseball is my fate. Let’s hope not, anyway.”
“Maybe it’s not baseball. Maybe . . . maybe it’s what baseball will lead you to.”
You never know where life may take you. You just have to have patience and trust that it will all work out. You have to believe that the challenges, hardships, all the moments that will absolutely bend you in half are just making you stronger, more resilient, and absolutely more badass for life on the other side.
Because there is another side. There’s always another season. For some, it’s facing an illness and its many unknown variables. For others, it’s learning to keep going when life looks bleak. But what makes it endurable is love. Messy, complicated, beautiful, and enduring love.
And for this household, that’s probably going to include at least another season of baseball.
EPILOGUE
PALMER
Six months later
Did you use soap?” Cole’s question rings down the hallway. “Get back in there and use soap, my man.”
“But—”
“Ethan, please. It’s soap. No one is asking you to do something wild like clean your room.”
I giggle and turn back to the stove.
The meatloaf that Cole made cools on a rack next to a pot of mashed potatoes. Cooking is his thing these days. He says it gives him joy. Who am I to take that away from him?
Cole’s arms come around me from behind, pressing his hands against my stomach, where a bump will be showing in the coming months.
“How’s my little mama?” he asks, kissing me beneath my ear. How I love when he calls me that. “Hungry? Grab a seat and I’ll make you a plate.”
“When am I not hungry?”
“You’re growing a future Hall of Famer in there.” He grins. “Sit.”
I learned quickly not to argue with Cole. It was one thing before I got pregnant, but now? He’s nearly impossible to deal with.
The barstools were removed earlier this week in anticipation of the kitchen renovation, so I sit at the table. I’m not sure what we’ll do next week, when the contractors begin work in this part of the house. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.
Remodeling has been an experience. I keep forgetting that Cole, we, have money. I asked for a two-car garage. He had a space built to hold more cars than any two people will ever need. I suggested a walk-in shower. We have something that looks like you need a degree in electronics to operate it. And the day after I suggested a bigger closet to hold both of our things, a room was being built . . . on the other side of the soaking tub that I apparently mumbled about in my sleep.
I have to watch what I say to my husband—even when I’m sleeping. He knows no bounds and takes every opportunity he can to spoil me.
“Here you go,” he says, setting a plate in front of me.
“This looks great.”
“Mom’s recipe.” He sits across from me, having eaten earlier with Ethan while I napped. “I hope you like it.”
The first bite melts in my mouth. The spices—Casey’s secret blend that Cole won’t share with me—are both aromatic and delicious.
“This is so good. It makes me want to fall in love with you all over again.”
He beams. “Thank you, my lady. I’ve realized that hers are better than the ones I pull from the internet.”
I laugh. “You’re talking about the lasagna, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
His laughter mixes with mine as we remember the lasagna that he made last week. It was highly inedible and resulted in corn dogs from King Pin Alley for dinner—something that didn’t upset Ethan at all.
“Your dad called while you were talking to the contractor,” I tell him. “He said your mom is on the way to pick up Ethan and that you have a closing tomorrow morning at eight. He wanted me to remind you because he’s pretty sure you didn’t write it down.”